


World Gone Blind

by angelkittybaby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Caring Draco Malfoy, Daddy Dom Draco Malfoy, Daddy Dom/Little Girl, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Innocent Hermione, Master/Slave, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Smut, Soft Draco Malfoy, Sub Hermione Granger, dd/lg, dramione - Freeform, little Hermione, patient draco malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkittybaby/pseuds/angelkittybaby
Summary: Draco is a man taught to live one way. His certain traditions, specific desires, and set expectations often veil his soft heart, with the exception of one person.Hermione is a girl who has been sheltered away, safely hidden in a soft, pampered world, only to be trained to serve perhaps the most vile desires their twisted world has to offer.When Draco becomes her owner, he not only promises to protect his little girl, but also unknowingly commits to having his life turned upside down by her. As she blossoms under his care, Hermione soon realizes that nothing, not even the man before her or the life she once knew, is as clear as it seems. Together, they navigate the broken world around them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this story will go, but I've been writing it in my head for a while now. No smut in this chapter, but this work is definitely meant to be full of it.
> 
> Please be kind! Haven't written in 6/7ish years.

_Hermione_

I looked out into the crowd of people before me, partially obscured by dim illumination and a light fog of cigar smoke.

As I strained to study the silhouettes, it became apparent to me that most were well-dressed in thicker cloaks, darker suits, tailored dress shirts. Glints of presumably expensive jewels caught my eyes as people (almost all of them men, as I determined) held their arms up to signal something, gesturing in my direction, turning to make conversation with those around them.

Following some of their gazes back towards the stage I stood on, my attention turned towards myself. With my head kept level so as to maintain my eyes on the audience before me (I felt a strong protest against any other movement), I began to assess my own body.

There was a pink silk band tied, not too tightly, around my upper right arm, the ends of the bow draping gently down to tickle my elbow. The color was pleasing to me, and I knew instantly it was one of my favorite colors. The hue matched the articles of lingerie that covered my chest and lower region, though left me still feeling a bit chilled in the cool auditorium. I couldn't quite see all the way down without tilting my head, but my feet felt bare on the smooth marble floor beneath me as I wiggled my toes.

Coming into focus was the loud voice of a man speaking to the right of me. I knew he had been speaking for as long as I had gained awareness, but I still had yet to make out a word of what he was saying. It seemed whenever I almost figured out a phrase, its meaning would escape me, like trying to catch smoke with my hands. I was sure it was a language I understood, though I couldn't remember what language that was, nor if I could speak it. I wondered what my own voice sounded like.

I made to turn my head slightly, so as to perhaps decipher what was being said by looking at the man's face, but a stronger urge abruptly overcame my initial instinct to turn towards the voice. This impulse persuaded me to stay as I had been, perfectly still, allowing only my eyes to wander to the edges of my peripheral vision. It made me feel that it would be better, easier, more pleasing for me to remain as I had been positioned, and I believed it.

As I was just finishing coming to terms with the internal struggle in my own mind, the weight of something wrapped around my neck was brought to my attention. It didn't feel uncomfortable at all, and was rather quite natural to me. I could sense it was not cold or hard, but instead felt soft and sturdy. Its temperature indicated to me that I must have been wearing it for quite a while, as it must have been warmed by my own body heat.

"Turn around."

I barely had time to register my surprise at finally being able to understand the words being spoken, before my body seemed to move for me, my limbs working ahead of my mind. It was as if I was compelled to follow his command; the swish in my vision as I swiveled around to now face the backdrop of the stage behind me felt natural, good. At once, I could hardly discern the syllables of the man's speech again, the muffled sounds taking precedence once more.

I was instructed to turn back around after a few moments with the same, clear voice commanding me. Some words were exchanged with the man on the stage and various voices from the crowd, but again I struggled to understand what was being said.

After a couple more minutes of this, it seemed that some sort of consensus had been reached, as a large banging noise sounded out, startling me. The crowd's murmurs grew louder at this point. Some attention seemed to be focused not on me anymore but on someone within the crowd, and I saw a shock of light hair disappear into the back where some people's gazes pointed. Hushed words and sideways glances followed, but my own focus was quickly drawn away.

I felt a tug at my core to turn to my left, much like the feelings of compulsion I experienced in following the man's commands. As my legs moved me towards the stairs leading off the stage, there was another figure at the bottom of the steps coming into view. His hands held what appeared to be a leash in the same color as the ribbon around my arm and the rest of my outfit. Just as I was about to begin my descent, I spotted the shape of another girl in the corner of my left eye being led out to the center of the floor where I had previously stood. The blur of her skin let me know that she must be dressed in the same scant way I was, though her garments seemed to be black, in contrast to my light pink ones. Common sense told me that I must've entered onto the stage in the same manner as the girl following after my presentation, but I couldn't access any memories before my first realization of standing before the dimly lit audience.

The man at the bottom of the staircase attached the leash with a _clink_ to the circular band around my neck, and beckoned me to follow him. He led me out of the smoke-filled room and into a better lit hallway. As soon as we exited, it seemed as though my thoughts felt clearer, though I wasn't quite sure why that was the case. I found my eyes looking down, trying to follow the shoes of the man leading me. The floor beneath was made of a plush, dark blue material, and it felt pleasant to walk across.

We came to a room much warmer than the hallway, but the carpet here was equally soft. I heard words being exchanged between the man I had been following and another, deeper voice. A tug of the leash in my line of vision indicated to me that the lead must have been handed off to this second man, and I felt a soft rush of air as the first man walked past me. The door opened and closed with a soft _click_ as he left. My eyes had still not lifted from the floor, as I was overcome again by the sudden feeling of not wanting to move from how I had been previously directed.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes, darling."

I looked up to see this new man and saw quite possibly the most handsome face I had ever laid eyes on. He had impossibly light blond hair, chiseled features, and cool blue eyes. As those eyes met my own, I immediately felt myself drop down to the rug below me, tucking my limbs neatly beneath me before leaning down to kiss the tops of the shoes of the man who now held my life in his hands. I sat back on my heels to look up at him again, and found him staring curiously down at me.

"I am yours to do with as you see fit, Master." The words tumbled out of my mouth without my conscious thinking, but they felt right. I felt at home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Draco_

I looked down into what was quite possibly the most beautiful face I'd ever seen.

I knew as soon as she had been brought out on stage that she was mine. Rosy cheeks, cute nose, curvy figure. And her wild hair. The pink silk band wrapped around her upper arm, denoting her status as a "Little Girl", only added to the reasons why I had to have her; she was exactly what I had in mind in looking to purchase.

The colored band system had been explained to the audience before the auction began, although I had known this knowledge since I was a little boy. Father had brought me to many auctions such as this before, insisting I become exposed to as much of the world as possible. Unlike my father, however, I was hardly interested in having multiple girls under my possession. Just one would be enough.

White silk bands meant the girl was a virgin; black silk bands meant the girl had already been taken during training or some other time in her life. While the allure of an untouched girl might be enticing for some people, girls with black silk bands often had much more training and were thus more equipped and well-versed to be pleasing in a myriad of different ways.

The amount of training almost always directly correlated with the price of the girl, although the nature of an auction sometimes swayed the value in one way or the other. Some girls went through extensive training to acquire various talents and skills, depending on popularity and demand of the consumers at any given season.

It was well-known, however, that girls donning pink silk bands unfailingly fetched higher prices than any other make or model. Father had told me it was because their training was the most extensive of any methods the institution had come up with, reaching far back into the early years of a girl’s youth. And while I knew my father had only been interested in girls of such training as a novelty addition to his collection, I was far more interested in the little flowers themselves.

Girls with pink silk bands were referred to as “Little Girl” models, aptly named because they were trained to think and act as little girls. Although all girls were over the age of 17 by the time they were presented at any auction, these ones behaved as whatever age they had been trained to regress to. I knew friends of my father that owned little girls who behaved much like a toddler, others as old as around six or seven, and still others who took to near infant-like tendencies. And to stay true to their status, all little girls were, of course, virgins at the time of their presentation.

The regularly high going rate of her status meant little to me; my personal vault at Gringotts held enough gold to purchase the entire auction house, with plenty left over. Even the fact that the auctioneer had cited "brattiness" as one of her key attributes had served as a poor deterrent for me. Some owners expected complete obedience and had little patience to deal with anything less.

As I looked into the warm caramel eyes below me, I knew that owning this little girl would mean earning her devotion, and nothing excited me more than that.

When I laid eyes on her for the first time on that stage, I knew she was far too precious for this world. I'd seen countless girls marched around on platforms such as the one she'd stood on, but none beckoned to me like she had. Her adorably innocent demeanor screamed to me that she needed protection, a protection that the world we lived in would not provide. Born into the old wealth of my family made me privy to an education in the worst things people were capable of when they had the means to do whatever they pleased, as well as the means to silence anyone who disagreed.

I wanted to be the one to shelter her from this cruel world. I wanted to be the one she called home. I wanted to be her owner.

And Malfoys always got what they wanted.

At the moment, however, I was confused, as the girl who now knelt at my feet had addressed me as “Master”, instead of the title I had been expecting. I decided to investigate.

"The pink band around your arm tells me that you're a Little Girl, are you not?" I inquired.

The girl, who had been intently looking up at me, her lips slightly parted, promptly refocused her attention and smiled. "Yes, Master, I am a Little Girl." Her back straightened a bit.

I returned her grin with a smirk. “You previously addressed me as Master. However, I was under the impression that little girls are meant to be purchased and owned by Daddies, and should be referred to as such. Am I mistaken?”

She nodded understandingly. "We are trained to address our owners as Master, until instructed to do otherwise. This is so you have as much flexibility as possible in choosing whatever title you desire.”

This was the most I had heard her speak so far, and I had already deemed her voice as the most wonderful sound in the world.

”Would Master prefer to be referred to as Daddy from now on?" she asked.

"Yes, I would."

"Of course, Daddy," she smiled sweetly at me again. I smirked down at her, loving the use of that title on her lips.

"And what is your name, little princess?"

She blushed as her eyes flitted away shyly for a moment, before returning to mine. "My name is Hermione."

"Hermione," I repeated. Her eyes looked as though she was surprised by her own answer, though I wasn't sure why, but she had schooled her features not a half second later and given me an earnest nod, making her unruly curls bounce.

My hand instinctively reaching for her wild locks. They felt soft and healthy around my fingers. "What a beautiful name for a beautiful princess."

She blushed further, and I made a mental note of her liking to the term of endearment. "Thank you, Daddy."

Her head naturally canted towards my hand in her hair, and I felt the warmth of her scalp as she essentially nuzzled into my touch. Her eyes had fluttered shut. She looked not unlike a fawn coming to rest, a small smile still painting her lips. I was overcome with the sudden urge to gather her in my arms so she may rest more soundly against me.

”Stand up, will you, princess?” I asked, feeling soft resistance against my hand as my fingers threaded through her tangled curls on her way up to obey me. Even at her full height, she still barely came up to the edge of my chin.

Her hands were clasped in front of her, and I reached out to take them into my own, dropping the leash I had forgotten I was holding in my haste to feel the soft skin of her hands.

”Ready to come home with me?”

Her eyes lit up at that, and her hands squeezed a bit around mine. “Yes, Daddy.”

I smiled. Pulling her body against mine, we turned on the spot.


End file.
